When I had finished he
said at once, "Let us go and see the old lady."'
MRS. DOWEY, backing, which is the first movement she has made since he
began his tale, 'Is he--coming?'
MR. WILLINGS, gloriously, 'He has come. He is up there. I told him I
thought I had better break the joyful news to you.'
Three women rush to the window. Mrs. Dowey looks at her pantry door, but
perhaps she remembers that it does not lock on the inside. She stands
rigid, though her face has gone very grey.
MRS. DOWEY. 'Kindly get them to go away.'
MR. WILLINGS. 'Ladies, I think this happy occasion scarcely requires
you.' He is not the man to ask of woman a sacrifice that he is not
prepared to make himself. 'I also am going instantly.' They all survey
Mrs. Dowey, and understand--or think they understand.
MRS. TWYMLEY, pail and mop in hand, 'I would thank none for their
company if my Alfred was at the door.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM, similarly burdened, 'The same from me. Shall I send him
down, Mrs. Dowey?' The old lady does not hear her. She is listening,
terrified, for a step on the stairs.
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